The Diagnosis

The next day went rather quickly. It was hard to wait for the ultrasound that I really didn't want to have. I mean, what did it matter, I was going to keep my child no matter what the outcome, of that I was certain. I guess you have to give in and understand that you still have to have prenatal care, and part of that was going through this process. I had a very hard time listening to all the other expectant mothers, chatting about this and that, asking me if I was going to find out what I was having. It's hard to answer those questions when you know that in the ultrasound room you are going to find out if your little one will live or not. Other Mommies came in and out, sharing their pictures, "It's a Girl!" "It's a Boy!" "Look there's the face, the head, the toes...." It was a truly a relief when I was called back. The tech did the ultrasound, completely detached. I asked if her if she could please let me know the sex of the baby. I told her that we didn't get to that at the other ultrasound. I think she thought I was crazy, but she obliged. I walked out of the ultrasound with only two of the many pictures taken, I was going to have a boy!!!

They called me back into what seemed like a board room, asked me if I knew why I was there. Of course I did! This was the single most important day of my pregnancy to date! Long story short they confirmed the diagnosis and started to tell me my "options". I will never ever forget the look on this female doctor's face when I politely interrupted her and let her know I did not want to hear the options. I don't know if she really believed me, as she continued to try to hand me brochures about pregnancy termination through inducing pre-term labor (a nice way to say abortion). I pushed the brochures back across the table and reiterated that I did not want the "options", I wanted to know where we go from here. I told her I was a born-again Christian and that it is not my right or hers or any one's for that matter to decide when my son's life ended, it was God's and God's alone. I would carry my son until God saw fit. There was a young man in the room, he was an intern, I remember him because he gave me a reassuring nod and smile after I said that. I knew that there may be three or four doctor's in that room, but at least one person was listening to me. After some insulting remarks about why I would make that decision when my baby was going to just a be a vegetable, I was finally given a game plan for mine and my son's prenatal care.

If there is one passion I have it is that through education, doctors can become more aware of anencephaly, that they will take the opportunity to step outside of what their medical textbooks might say and look at every child as a human life. They said to me that I had "options", but only gave me one, termination. They never suggested I keep my son, didn't try to hand me a brochure about carrying a baby with anencephaly. I guess to them, "options" meant I had different options of how to terminate. To me the child I was carrying was MY SON, to them, it was a fetus that had no chance of survival outside the womb. I cannot imagine what decision I would have made if I did not have the convictions that I do as a Christian, or if I had not taken the time to find the information I did the night before. It angers me even now that doctor's would attempt to create such a sense of hopelessness rather than presenting all the possibilities. A life should never be considered invalid simply because it may not last as long as expected. (The soapbox I could get on about this, but moving on...)

I left that day with a diagnosis, but I also left with the assurance that my pregnancy would go on as normally as possible. I left that day knowing that I was having a son, and sure I didn't get to leave with the normal ultrasound pictures other Mommies get, but I had my two. Two pictures of his "boy parts", reminding me again that he was my little baby, he was perfect! Maybe not "perfect" in the eyes of some doctors, or what the world might call "perfect", but he was my perfect gift. God had made him perfectly for me! I left that day with the peace that my son would be loved here on Earth as long as God allowed, and then he would be brought to heaven to be surround with the love of our savior! He was a special little boy, a little boy that would only ever know a perfect, loving existence.